For Auld Lang Syne
by I am hurricane
Summary: Her breath caught in her throat and she very slowly turned around to find him standing there at the door. His ears were pink-tipped from the cold and he had flecks of snow in his hair, his bowtie was undone and slung around his neck, it fluttered in the draft from the door as he stepped inside. His whiskey brown eyes scanned the room and she held her breath as they landed on her.
1. No Regrets

Stiles choked on his beer, "Paris?" He sputtered raising his eyebrows. Malia nodded, as she reached out to touch the cool glass of the big bay window in Lydia's lake house.

"Yeah, It's my new year's resolution," she explained in a soft tone, full of wonder as she watched the snow fall. His throat tightens as he absorbs this, he tugs at his black bowtie and loosens his collar.

The music swelled from the party downstairs and the heavy bass thrummed through the floorboards. Malia was sitting across from him on the ledge of the bay window. She was wearing a beautiful midnight blue spaghetti strap dress that glittered with sparkles whenever the light caught it, and with it a pair of pretty crystal drop earrings that shimmered whenever she moved. Lydia always insisted on everyone dressing up for her annual new year's eve party. He was certain that her outfit was all Lydia's doing, but he had to admit that she made that dress look spectacular.

Malia might not have tolerated being dressed up like this a few years ago, but since graduation she'd become a little more indulgent of Lydia's whims. Though she had abandoned the ankle strap heels in a fit of rebelliousness. So now she was sitting barefoot on the ledge of the windowsill, with her legs drawn up to her chest, staring out at the snow. Her skin still flushed from dancing, her sassy pink toenails still tapping along to the beat.

She was so damn beautiful. But she always was, even when her hair was a mess and she was wearing a ratty old sweater and cut off jeans, she was perfect. Stiles blows out a breath, and pulls off the plastic new year's eve top hat that Scott had plunked on his head earlier, and runs a hand through his sweaty hair.

"So when are you leaving?" He asks, trying to sound casual as he leans back against the window beside her. The icy cool of the window kisses the back of his neck, and sinks through his crisp white shirt soothing his heated skin.

"Midnight, tonight."

Stiles bolts upright, "Tonight?— _On new year's eve_?"

Malia turns to look at him for the first time and shrugs, "It's my resolution, so I figure why wait."

His lips flutter for a few seconds as he tries to form words but nothing comes, so he just downs the last of his drink and crumples up the plastic cup with a satisfying crunch.

He swallows down the bitter taste in his mouth and tries to dig deep to find some unselfish feelings of happiness for her. She deserves that much from him. And he knows how much she's always wanted this. As he looks at her watching the snowflakes fall in wonder, her eyes big and innocent like a child's, it's not hard to offer her a real smile, even if there's still an uncomfortable tightness in his chest.

"Good for you, Mal." He says, warmly. Stiles tosses the crushed cup in his hand onto the floor and sinks back against the cool press of the window feeling miserable. He picks at his fingers, "So, uh, how long are you going for?"

"I'm taking this semester off and I'm gonna use the tuition to stay in Paris till next term."

 _Five Months! That would be roughly 153 days without her. A lot could happen in 153 days—A lot—What if she decides not to come back?_

His mind is scrambling and suddenly words start tumbling out of his mouth, "Does Scott know?"

Malia tenses for all of two seconds at the mention of her ex-boyfriend. Her and Scott were still on good-terms as far as he knew but even though they were still good friends things between them were bound to be a little awkward for a while.

"I haven't told anybody, except my dad." She admits, almost seeming guilty. "I'm gonna text everyone when I land in Paris."

Stiles arches an eyebrow and looks at his phone. It's 11:04 pm, that means she's leaving the country in a little under an hour. She doesn't have a bag or any luggage with her. His eyes widen as he realizes her plan, she's going to walk out of this party before midnight with nothing but her purse and her coat and fly off to Paris just because she wants to.

There is a stirring sort of elegance to the idea. He's always liked that about her, that she knows what she wants and that she not afraid to go after it. And he can't help being envious of that quality in her now more than ever. Because after everything that's happened in this last year he finally knows what he wants more than anything. When he'd sat down on this ledge with her fifteen minutes ago, he was finally going to tell her. To say the words he's been turning over in his head for the last six months. Words that have been stuck in his throat all Christmas break. Words he'd tried to say in her ear on the dance floor, but she hadn't been able to hear him over the music.

And now he's finally got her all alone, in this perfect moment with the fresh falling snow…but if he tells her now then he'd be selfish. And he can't do that, he can't be selfish with her anymore.

He clears his throat, "Thanks for, uh, for telling me, y'know, in person."

Malia gives him a teasing grin, "Well, I figured if I didn't want the national guard out looking for me, then I should probably let you know."

Stiles chuckles despite himself. "I'm not that bad."

Malia shrugs and gives him a disbelieving grin, "It's O.K. Stiles, you're a worrier, it's what you do."

Stiles frowns and lifts a finger to defend himself, but Malia catches his hand, her fingers are still cool from the glass and it makes him shudder. She smirks playfully, "It's not a bad thing, it's probably what's kept all of us alive this long." Stiles lets out a small huff of laughter and then moves to sandwich her hands between his. He stares down at their hands, as he tries to rub heat into her icy fingers. His thumb strokes along the back of her hand tenderly, and he's not quite sure how he's going to let go when the time comes. He can feel her eyes on him so he lifts his head and when he does he sees something there…something he hasn't seen from her in a long time.

She's edging closer and then so is he—then there's a flash of light and a chime from her phone. She pulls her hands away and reaches for her phone that's sitting on the windowsill between them.

"It's my dad. He's here. He's driving me to the airport." She explains, as she rises up and straightens her dress, and gathers her coat and her purse. Then she starts fiddling with her purse not quite able to meet his eyes.

Stiles blinks stunned and stands up , "O.K, so this is it. You're, uh, you're going."

Malia nods the awkwardness in her stance shifting as her eyes glitter with excitement, "Yeah, I'm really going."

Stiles rubs at the back of his neck unsure of what to do with himself. "So, uh, you take care of yourself over there. And remember that they don't like American tourists but don't let them push you around—and you can download a English to French dictionary on your phone—" Before he could finish his babbling Malia pulled him down to her and kissed his cheek before crushing him into a fierce hug. Stiles was stunned for a few seconds, still feeling the weight and heat of her lips on his cheek for a few seconds before he snapped back to reality and curled his arms around her back and pulled her closer.

Her silky hair tickled his nose as he held her close and felt her heartbeat throb right through his shirt. They hadn't held each other like this, like really held each other like this in almost a year. He revelled in her warmth and the softness of her skin beneath his hands and the sweet scent of her perfume.

"Promise you won't obsess over this like you do with everything else, I'm gonna be fine." She mumbled into his neck.

Stiles gave a self-deprecating laugh, "Me? Obsess? Pfft, never." He jokes flatly. Malia pulled away slightly and squeezed his shoulder, and looked into his eyes.

"I gotta go." She whispers as she pulls away.

Stiles buries the ache in his chest and offers her a warm smile. "Yeah," he nods as he reaches up and brushes a lock of hair behind her ear, and lets his hand linger there for a few seconds longer, "Go get your dream, Mal." Then he forces himself to drop his hand and step away from her till he's at a polite distance.

Malia fiddles with her purse strap as she steps away, "I'll, uh, I'll see you around, Stilinski."

Stiles gives a forced smile and watches her disappear down the stairs. He stands there stalk still until he sees a flash of lights out the window and notices Mr. Tate's old pickup truck. He watches her dash out in the falling snow and climb into the cab of the truck, and then the truck pulls away and disappears down the driveway. He can still smell her perfume even after she's gone. He stands there for a long moment just staring out at the snow, before finally tromping listlessly down the stairs to the party. He's not really sure where he's going or what he's even doing before Lydia is catching him by the arm.

"What the hell are you doing, Stilinski?" She asks yanking on his arm. Startled Stiles snaps to attention.

"What?" He grunts, confused.

"I just caught Malia leaving, she's going to Paris!"

Stiles nodded his jaw tensing, "Yeah, she told me."

"Are you really going to let her go without telling her?" Stiles raises an eyebrow at her confused. "C'mon, Stiles, everybody knows you're in love with that girl except her. So go tell her." She urges.

Stiles runs a hand through his messy hair, "It's just gonna mess things up between us even worse then they already are." He mutters dejected.

"Tell her anyway." Lydia says offering up the keys to her Prius, "'cause it's new year's eve and tonight's about no regrets, right?"

Stiles stares at the keys considering them for a few seconds before he nods, "No regrets." He repeats before he turns away.

"Hey where are you going?" Lydia asks confused. Stiles turns toward her and gives her a smirk.

"I'm going to get my jeep because I've got a flight to catch." Lydia smiled satisfied and Stiles ducked down to plant a quick kiss on his ex-girlfriend's cheek. "Thanks, Lyds."

Lydia grinned and shoved him toward the door, "Go get her." Stiles pulled his bowtie free of his collar and sprinted through the crowd and out the front door and into the falling snow.


	2. Nowhere Else I'd Rather Be

A little ball of nervousness twists in her stomach as she stands in line in her evening dress and heels. She pulls her wool coat tighter around herself and shudders slightly at the cool draft from the revolving door. She'd been standing in line for a good twenty minutes and so far it hasn't moved. She bites her lip and checks her ticket for the thousandth time. But even though she knows the information on her ticket backwards and forwards she was still relieved that her flight number and terminal haven't suddenly been altered in the last five minutes.

She didn't like waiting around like this. It gave her too much time to think. Too much time to doubt herself, her decisions and the reliability of jet engines. She slipped her ticket into her passport and stuffed both into her pocket and then dug around in her other pocket for her phone and checked the time.

It was 11:47 PM her flight should have been boarding fifteen minutes ago. She stares out at the runways through the towering plate glass windows and watches the snow swirling in the wind. She could still make out the runway lights and the planes on the tarmac clearly, but maybe the light snowfall was making things more difficult than she realized. It usually snows in Northern California this time of year. But they normally don't get more than a few inches. She's never flown before so for all she knew this bit of snow was enough to cause problems.

Malia sighs and slips her phone back into her pocket. Her fingers bump against something cold, and she reaches out and slips her fingers around her car keys, clenching them in her hand. She probably should have left them with her dad, but something had stopped her from surrendering them. It was silly and sentimental whatever it was; it's not like she was going to be able to use them where she was going. But it was a comforting weight having them in her pocket, knowing that she had house keys, that she had a home to come back to and a dad that loves her.

She had forbidden her dad from coming inside to wait with her for her flight. Henry Tate was gruff on the outside, but he was all heart underneath and she didn't think she could handle it if he started to cry. Then out of habit she soothed herself by running her thumb along the embossed lettering on the St. Christopher's medal that hung on her keychain. She pulled her keys out of her pocket and let the comforting weight of the medal settle in her palm as her thumb brushed over it.

She considered it for a moment, then allowed herself to do something she hadn't in a very long time, she flipped it over and read the inscription on the back.

 _Eyes on the road, pretty girl._

A rush of heat tingled down her spine as she read it. She was reading it off the back of the cold, tarnished medal in her palm, three years after Stiles had given it to her. But her body still responded as if he'd just whispered it in her ear.

Behind her eyes she saw a rapid flurry of images —Stiles with a crooked grin as he dangled the keys to the jeep out to her—The feel of his big, warm hand covering hers on the gearshift—The tickle of his nervous laughter in her ear as he hooked two fingers on the wheel and steered her back into her own lane—The feel of the wind in her hair as they rolled down the windows and she cruised around town late at night—Then one night when they were stopped at a red light and the streets were deserted, he'd unclipped his seat belt, slid closer and kissed her slow and deep. By the time he'd pulled away the light was amber and that's when he'd said it, his breath hot and teasing in her ear.

That next week she'd passed her driver's test and her dad and the pack had taken her out to celebrate. They'd all crammed into a booth at the pizzeria on 7th street and they'd all sat there laughing and throwing fries at each other.

Eventually when her dad had gotten up to pay the check and Scott, Kira and Lydia were all occupied trying to beat the claw machine in the corner, Stiles had slid closer to her in the booth and wrapped his arm around her. She didn't care for PDA but she was feeling magnanimous that day so she was the one that leaned into him a stole a kiss.

Stiles had frozen up for a few seconds in surprise that she'd kiss him in public, much less within a hundred feet her father. But once he'd snapped out of it he'd kissed her back with just as much heat. While she'd been thoroughly invested in his lips, one of his bold hands had run along her back teasingly, before slipping rather brazenly into her back pocket.

Malia had jumped in surprise, pulling away and blinking at him. She really, really liked his hands on her, but other than in the backseat of the jeep, they didn't get handsy in public. She'd arched an eyebrow at him but Stiles had just given her a toothy grin and a wink as he held up the car keys he'd just pilfered from her back pocket. Her cheeks tinted slightly, when she realized that he'd been toying with her on purpose.

Stiles jammed his thumb into the keyring and pried it open, then with a twist of his fingers he slipped something onto the keyring and offered it back to her. That's when she'd noticed the St. Christopher's medal and raised an eyebrow at him.

Stiles had snorted into his half finished glass of coke and muttered, _"It's to keep all those unsuspecting pedestrians safe, with you on the road." He'd teased._ Malia twisted her lips and elbowed him in the ribs. Stiles had sputtered into his glass and then set it down with a chuckle. Then he'd slipped his fingers under her arm and tickled her side. He'd caught her in a one armed hug as she trashed about and kissed her temple, _"I'm proud of you, y'know."_

Malia wrinkled her nose up at him as she wriggled out from beneath his arm. _"Even though your worried for the pedestrians." She'd volleyed back._

Stiles shot her his signature grin, _"Hey," he'd said with a shrug "It's progress._ "

Malia was so caught up in the memory that she hadn't noticed that the line had started moving. She blinked rapidly and moved forward a few feet closing the gap between her and the other passengers. She blows out a breath that she hadn't even realized that she'd been holding in. He's the only guy that's ever made her felt like that, that girlish giddy sort of feeling. It's not that Scott wasn't wonderful, because he was. It's just that it never felt like that between them. And that's probably why she ended things with Scott before they could ever get too serious.

She'd been half-way to convincing herself that how she'd felt back then had less to do with Stiles and more to do with being a seventeen year-old girl with raging hormones. But that theory had been blown out of the water tonight at Lydia's new year's eve party, when she'd locked eyes with him across the room.

He been devastatingly handsome, in his tuxedo vest and bowtie, with his crisp white shirt sleeves rolled up to his biceps. He'd always been boyishly handsome, but tonight he was all broad shoulders, lean muscles and warm brown eyes. And it had her nineteen year-old self caught up in that same old feeling he used to give her.

She hadn't really seen him since he'd left for college in the spring. They'd kept in contact, texting, emails, phone calls and video chats but it was a lot harder keeping him at arms length in person. All Christmas break she'd been feeling that old tension rising up between them. She'd done her best to avoid being alone with him for too long. Because it was far too easy to fall into old patterns with Stiles Stilinski, and the last thing she wanted to do was get hurt again.

Malia shook her head at herself. This isn't where she expected herself to be at ten to midnight on new year's eve. She'd kind of envisioned herself onboard her flight to Paris sipping champaign at midnight. Not stuck in a lineup catching herself thinking about her ex-boyfriend's whiskey brown eyes. The line had moved another few inches without her notice and Malia huffed and closed the gap in the line again.

Just then there was a cool draft from the revolving door behind her, and a familiar scent tickled her nose. Her breath caught in her throat and she very slowly turned around to find him standing there at the door. His ears were pink-tipped from the cold and he had flecks of snow in his hair, his bowtie was undone and slung around his neck, it fluttered in the draft from the door as he stepped inside and rubbed his hands. His whiskey brown eyes scanned the room and she held her breath as they landed on her.

He jogs toward her with a purpose and Malia's eyes never leave him, even as he stops to he dump his phone, keys and wallet into the plastic tub on the conveyor belt and steps through the metal detectors. After security waves him through he makes his way through the gate, and Malia steps out of line to meet him.

"Stiles, what're you doing here?" She asks, then as he stills she notices that he's shivering, "Oh, my gosh, Stiles you're freezing."

Stiles closes his eyes and nods, willing himself to stop shaking as he crosses his arms tightly over his thin black wool overcoat. "Y-yeah." He shudders, "The je-eep's he-heater s'not w-working."

"Stiles," she curses under her breath as she rubs her hands quickly up and down his arms to warm him up. "What were you thinking?"

His eyes flutter open, "Y-you're n-not the on-only one w-with res-resolutions."

"What was yours? To freeze to death?" She chastises as she fusses with his coat and brushes the snow out of his hair.

"T-to be m-more like y-you."

Her hands still on his shoulders as she lifts her eyes to look at him, his jaw is tensed in an effort to keep himself still but his eyes are serious. "Stiles—" she starts with a shake of her head.

"You g-go after what you w-want." He interrupted, his voice growing stronger, conviction blazing in his eyes. "You d-don't let anything s-stop you." He says as he reaches out and runs his fingers down her cheek. Malia feels herself starting to lean into his hand.

"I can't do this," she says twisting her head away, and stepping back.

Stiles drops his hand, cursing himself.

The intercom speaker squawks overhead {Attention all passengers, Air France flight 117 is now boarding.}

"Stiles," She's barely able to meet his eyes, "I gotta go."

She starts walking toward her gate ignoring the tears beading at the corner of her eyes.

"I lied to you." He calls after her, and Malia stops in her tracks. Stiles licks his lips and cautiously takes another step closer. "I told you that we were better off friends. I hurt you and I had no idea what I could do to fix that, so I was a coward and I gave you up. I think I told myself that you were better off, like I was doing something noble but I was just scared. I didn't want to see that disappointed look in your eyes again."

Malia slowly turned to look at him a flash of tears in her eyes. "And then you and Scott you got together and I couldn't—I couldn't handle it. Him and I we've been through everything together, and he's the best. And I've never really been jealous of him for anything. Not over lacrosse, or his popularity, not even because of the super strength or him being a true alpha. He's my best friend and I think he deserves all of it…but not you. I didn't want him to have you. Even if he's better than me ten times over I never wanted you to look at him like you used to look at me. I was so damn jealous of him." He admits.

Malia's eyes harden, "How do you think I felt, huh?" She snaps, "When you and I ended things and then you just turned around and started dating Lydia? My best friend. And then it just felt like I lost both of you. Y'know, when we were together…I never worried about you and Lydia. I know what people said about you two…that she was your dream girl and everything. But I trusted you and I didn't think I had to worry. And then a few months after we broke up, you were with her. Do you know how that made me feel, Stiles? It made me feel so stupid for being so damn in love with you."

"Aww, Mal," He says running a hand through his hair, "There's nothing stupid about you." He insists as he reaches out to her cup her bare shoulder, but she pulled away just as the cool of his hands grazed her skin, her eyes wary, she folded her arms across her chest and kept the distance between them.

Stiles flinched recognizing his mistake and dropped his hand.

"The whole time I was with Lydia, the 'girl of my dreams' all I could think about was… _you._ I'd catch myself thinking about how your day was, and worrying about who was gonna quiz you on your math finals." He shakes his head at himself, "And I'd be somewhere, just doing whatever and then I'd hear your voice in my head, or your laugh. You don't know how many times I started to text you instead of _her_." he blew out a breath, "Or how many nights I'd roll over half asleep and I'd reach for you. Because every time I closed my eyes, you were the only girl in my dreams, Mal."

Her hands were shaking. She sucked in a shuddery breath. It sounded so good, so right the aching and longing in his voice. She'd told herself for so long that she didn't need that, didn't want it. But it sent a surge of satisfaction through her anyway. No matter how much she wanted it to be real she was a coyote, a proud creature. She was a predator, not prey. And she couldn't let this boy make her weak again.

She raised her chin, defiant. "You guys broke up months ago. So why are you telling me all this now?"

"Because I don't want to start this year off with anymore regrets. So…here it is." He says stepping up to her and looking her straight in the eyes. "my new year's resolution is to finally tell you the truth. I'm an idiot for what I did. I hurt you, the one person who has all the power in the world to hurt me and never has. I screwed up with you because I was scared and I couldn't face myself or what I did, but none of that was your fault. And after everything that happened I tried to, I tried to let you go. But I couldn't even do that...because I can't make it go away... I can't stop loving you Malia Tate." he says, reaching out to cradle her cheek. "And I just, I need you to know that if there is any part of you that still wants me, I'm already yours."

It's the earnestness in his whiskey brown eyes that breaks her. She lets out a low sob of longing that she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. Then she grabbed him by a fistful of his shirt and dragged forward until he was kissing her. His hands were cool on her shoulders, but his lips were searing. Malia hummed in her throat as she slid her hands up his shirt, to catch his face in her hands, slanting her head back and forth as she kissed him wildly, without holding back. His arms slowly curled around her, until she was completely ingulfed in him. Distantly she heard the low rumble of voices and then…clapping.

On instinct she tore her lips away from his, her fingers still threaded in his hair, as her eyes darted about the room. The whole lineup, airport security guards, flight attendants, baggage carriers and a pair of pilots were staring at them, letting out catcalls and clapping.

Malia's cheeks grew hot and she hid her face against Stiles' neck. She nuzzled into his neck and his chest rumbled with laughter. His arms wound even tighter around her and he kept her close, holding her greedily to himself.

The loudspeaker squawked again overhead announcing that it was ten seconds to midnight. The flight attendants started handing out noise makers and party blowers to everyone in line. Malia snuggled into Stiles' chest and breathed in his scent as everybody started to count down.

"Ten! Nine!"

Stiles brushed his hand through her hair and Malia allowed him, lifting her head up from his chest to look into his gorgeous brown eyes as he carded his fingers through her hair. The countdown fell into the background behind them as they got lost in each other's eyes.

"Eight! Seven!"

He leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"Six! Five!"

Then the curve of her jaw.

"Four! Three!

And then the shell of her ear.

"Two! One!

His lips just grazed the corner of her cheek…

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

And then he tilted her chin up and kissed her full on the mouth. People all around them broke out into song as the familiar tune of 'Auld Lang Syne' poured from the speakers. They all sounded a little loud and off key many of them didn't know the right words, but as the music swelled, Stiles pulled back from the kiss. He gave her a goofy grin as he lifted their hands and pulled her into a sloppy form of the foxtrot and started twirling her around to the song.

"For auld lang syne, my dear," Stiles sang as his lips kissed her ear, "for auld lang syne, we'll take a cup of kindness yet,  
for auld lang syne. And surely I will buy your cup!  
And surely you'll buy mine!  
And we'll take a cup of kindness yet for auld lang syne.  
And we two have run about the slopes;  
and picked the daisies fine;  
but we've wandered many a weary foot since auld lang syne!"

Malia laughed rocking back and forth with him her ear pressed to the sound of his voice as people sang along and blew party horns in celebration all around them. When the cheering stopped and the music died down, Malia stayed in his arms. She slipped her arms beneath his coat and shivered.

"You're still freezing." She told him concerned as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her head to his chest trying to warm him.

Stiles shrugged and nuzzled into her hair, "I'll live." They stayed wrapped up in each others arms for a long time until someone touched Malia lightly on the shoulder and she lifted her head.

"I'm sorry Miss but it's last call for passengers from for Air France 117."

Her heart sank as she nodded and pulled back slightly from Stiles.

"You'd better get a move on, Mal," Stiles said gruffly as he reached out to lift her chin. "Paris is waiting."

Malia sniffled, "This is all I've ever wanted, and now I don't even want to go."

Stiles gave her a sad smile, "You got to, baby." He says lovingly brushing a hand down her cheek. "This is your dream. And in five months I'm gonna be right here when you get back." He promises as he squeezes her hands. Malia nods and dries her eyes.

"You really gotta work on your timing, Stilinski" she says with a sniffle. Stiles gives a rueful chuckle and rolls his eyes.

"Trust me, I know."

The flight attendant urges Malia that they can't wait any longer and so she grips the back of Stiles' neck and kisses him firmly, "I love you," she whispers as she reluctantly tears herself away. And then she steps away from him, and lets the flight attendant usher her along the jetway ramp. She casts one last look over her shoulder and Stiles smiles at her bravely and waggles his fingers at her and then she's ushered into the cramped cabin.

She wanders along the rows and finds her seat. A bubble of excitement rises in her chest as she clips on her seatbelt. And even though her heart is still aching, it still somehow feels full and at peace for the first time in a long time.

She dries her cheeks and shakes her head at herself. Her eyes staring out the window. The plane is still on the tarmac and despite all the flight attendant's bustling they still haven't moved after ten minutes. She's starting to feel bitter about it, that she could have spent these last few minutes with Stiles instead of waiting when she hears the whoosh of the plane's airtight hatch opening and closing.

The overhead seatbelt light flickers on and their is a chime from the intercom.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Please fasten your seatbelt and put your trays in their upright position."

Malia is pushing her tray up and locking it closed when someone plunks down beside her.

"Is this seat taken?"

Malia's head whips around as she sees Stiles grinning at her as he settles in beside hers and begins clipping on his seatbelt. She reaches out and smacks him on the chest.

"Stiles—you can't—what about your internship?" He just grins and flashes her his phone. On it's screen was the boarding pass and a confirmation of his roundtrip ticket to Paris.

"I've got three days before I've gotta be back in Washington. And there's no where else I'd rather spend them than with you."

Malia catches his face in her hands and kisses him senseless. His phone falls out of his grasp as his arms flail for a few seconds before curling around her. They barely notice as the plane rolls out onto the runway, picks up speed and then takes flight. They're too busy making out to notice. Later when the plane is at cruising altitude and Stiles and Malia are cooling down, just trading lazy kisses, he dips his head to nuzzle her ear.

"Happy new year, pretty girl." Malia leaned into him, hiding her face in the crook of his neck, smiling and content.

She never expected to be wrapped up in Stiles Stilinski's arms at 12:27 AM on January 1st on a plane bound for Paris, but there was nowhere in the world she'd rather be.

fin.


End file.
